


Take Me to Church

by ships_to_sail



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/pseuds/ships_to_sail
Summary: No one knew what kind of religion the Ancients practiced, or even if their human word was enough to encapsulate...whatever it was such supreme beings chose to put their faith in. Whatever it was, their room for it was beautiful. ‘Sometimes,’ the scientist thought late at night  (when his caffeine intake was at its lowest and he was the most prone to flights of figurative speech) ‘it feels too beautiful for things like us, that thrive in darkness.’





	Take Me to Church

They never stop anymore to think about where they are. Hands flash, and pull, and rip at anything keeping them apart, keeping them from being skin to skin. Later, there will be buttons to find, tears to mend, things too destroyed to be anything but discarded. They just hope they won’t be among those particular things.

_“I want to show you something.”_  
“It looks like some kind of conference room for the Ancients.”  
“I’m pretty sure it was a...church, or something.”  
“Religion is for saps. But you, Lieutenant Sheppard,” he crossed his arms as he leaned back against what could have been the altar, “are absolutely worth worshiping.” 

No one knew what kind of religion the Ancients practiced, or even if their human word was enough to encapsulate...whatever it was such supreme beings chose to put their faith in. Whatever it was, their room for it was beautiful. ‘Sometimes,’ the scientist thought late at night (when his caffeine intake was at its lowest and he was the most prone to flights of figurative speech) ‘it feels too beautiful for things like us, that thrive in darkness.’

But he never stopped to ponder it when the airman’s hands twined through his hair, when his lips swelled with blood and the skin on his cheeks was red and scraped raw by sandpaper cheeks. All his thoughts in that moment were on worshiping the man across from him, supplicating hands following lips tracing the words of the Hail Mary, in a way.

_He could barely remember his childhood catechism, and he didn't think Mary had her place anywhere near a different universe, but the overwhelming sense of longing to belong to something beyond himself that had driven him those long gone Sundays was embodied again here in front of him._

_The next time they come, the scientist lays him back across the altar, and he pillows his arms underneath his head. The airman keeps his eyes trained like the expert he is, watching as his buckle is undone and sighing when firm, callused fingers close around his shaft and strokes upwards in slow, appreciating strokes. A rough twist at the head and his hips buck against his control. He keeps his mouth shut, though, and listens. That’s the scientist’s rule._

_‘Hail Sheppard, full of grace, for we are with thee.’_

_And then, the soldier sees white as he comes, hips jerking as a base roar is torn from his throat. From then on, they don't go anywhere else to be together. The scientist always does the touching, adding a line to the prayer and a set of bite marks in a different place each time. Until there was only one more line to add, and the airman felt panic settle into the pit of his stomach._

He folds the soft cotton and lays him down on it tenderly, protectively. A trail of kisses across his chest, sucking slowly at one nipple while his fingers applied slow, steady pressure to the other. Beneath him, the airman shivered. The scientist smiled against his chest, blowing a sloppy, wet raspberry right in the middle of his breastbone. 

‘That was for almost getting us killed by not just waiting for me to reactivate the cores on the generator like I told you.’

He craned his head forward to the soft spot where jaw met neck and sucked firmly, counting down from three and pulling away just in time to prevent a mark.

‘And that was for saving us, after all.’  
‘Again.’  
‘Again.’ He placed a long kiss on the soldier, sucking at the top lip while his tongue ran along the bottom, tasting each inch of him individually before swallowing him whole. 

Licking into the man's mouth, his hands ran down his sides to his hips, where they gripped hard enough that it would leave bruises. This time, he most decidedly did not give a shit.

‘Hail Sheppard, full of grace, for we are with thee.’ The man beneath him relaxed into the table beneath them both at the start of the familiar litany. He slid his body down the airman's and landed, kneeling, between his legs. ‘Blessed are you among your team, and blessed is the bullet of your gun.’

His cock sprang free and the scientist licked his lips. This was always the best part, the first moments of lips on warm skin, the stretch of mouth around skin and the feeling he was the only one alive to witness the miracle that science taught him this was. This moment, of all moments, this timeline out of all timelines, and endless web of possibilities that all led to some other place and time, when he wasn't able to give back only this to the man who had given him so much.

‘Holy Mary, mother of God.’

He couldn't help himself. Usually he changed all the lines, but as he placed soft kisses along the base of the soldier's cock, sucking each ball into his mouth in turn before placing a long, flat lick up the underside - this time he just couldn't do it. There was nothing else to say at a sight that wholly beautiful. 

Sucking down hard, swirling his tongue around the sensitive underside of the head and along the slit as the smallest bit of precum began to bead. ‘Fuck the blood and give me the body,’ the scientist thought, ‘as long as it's his body.’ He growled and took the airman into his mouth down to the base. The man began to tense beneath his hands, his anticipation radiant.

It was time for the final line. The last amen.

The scientist slid a small bottle from his pocket and tried not to flinch at the cold suddenly all over his hand. He stood up and felt a bolt of heat go straight to his balls as he took in the sight in front of him. The airman was the iconography of sainthood through hedonism: flushed skin, bright eyes, small white teeth like pearls on red velvet as they bit down hard enough to draw blood. Not talking, just listening. His only rule:

‘Let me worship you.’

The airman watched the scientist's hands as they caressed up his legs, briefly massaging the back of his calves as he let out a groan of deep-seated pleasure. He watched as the nimble fingers forced his knees wide and, although he couldn't see it, he felt the cold slickness as one pushed inside of him. It was about to get much, much harder to stay quiet. 

‘Pray for this sinner now, and at the hour of his death.’

He put the emphasis on sinner and a second finger joined the first. Deep breaths through his nose, the soldier willed his body to relax. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the scientist was above him, blue eyes bright and fevered, completely entranced by the figure below him.

A smile spread filled his face slowly, taking it’s time to spread like honey through wine, as the fingers inside him scissored back and forth, slid in and out and opened him up, laying him bare. He began to push down, feeling emptier by the minute as the scientist chuckled and leaned forward to kiss him slowly again. 

And then he was gone. The airman heard the unmistakeable sound of a metal zipper and fabric falling to the floor, and then he was back, all heat and weight and a firm cock pressing against his asshole, ready and waiting. The whisper filled the room, as the scientist slid into him, in one steady, solid thrust.

‘Amen.’

Again, and again, over and over the scientist - his scientist - pounded into him. Whereas everything before this had been tender, appreciative - this was something else. This was fire and fury, ecstasy and unbridled joy. He knew it. They both knew it - they both wore the good news written across their faces. He reached his hand down and wrapped his fingers around himself, matching the man above him stroke for stroke as invectives poured from him - prayers and curses, adorations and pleas, a name whispered against skin and shouted and murmured over and over and over again: ‘McKay!’

He came in hot, wet bursts that coated his stomach and hand, his eyes locked on the man above him as sweat rolled down his brow and he continued to fuck into the soldier with unrestrained fervor. And as he came inside him, he roared a name: ‘John!’

And all the Universe said amen. 

Strong hands held his hips to the table as the scientist pulled out slowly, making an almost wounded sound when he finally slipped out of his airman - his savior, so many times over. 

Panting, the airman jumped when he felt the warm rasp of a tongue licking him slowly clean. He watched, rapt, as darts of pink tongue took in every last drop from his hands, his stomach, his slowly shrinking cock. And, when he was finally done, the scientist sat up and kissed him deeply one last time before standing up and reaching for the pants rumpled at his feet.

‘I got something sent to out on the Daedalus’ last run,’ the scientist mused out loud into the satisfied silence.

‘Hmmm,’ came a hummed reply from the table, where the airman was still reclined, perfecting the part of sacrifice laid open on the altar. 

The scientist crossed to him, nodding, even when he knew the other man couldn’t see. ‘Hmm, indeed.’ He pulled a small red-bound book with faded gilt and tossed it lightly onto the man’s chest before he rumpled his hair, kissed his forehead, and walked out of the room without another word. 

The airman wasn’t sure how long he sat there, fingering the fraying edge of the ribbon bookmark, before he sat up and finally looked at what was printed on the cover.

Catholic Book of Prayers.

‘Amen,’ he whispered, smirking as he picked up his shirt from where it’d been folded underneath his head and slid into the soft, white cotton.


End file.
